Winter Girls
by Rot-Chan
Summary: A man watches her. While Sakura - a normal girl who daydreams, hates Math, goes to school - falls in love with Sasuke, a predator is in the shadows, plotting. Will she be the next victim, the next dead winter girl? Inspired by Lovely Bones. SasuSaku.
1. Chapter 1

**"Winter Girls" **

**a SasuSaku story by Rot-chan**

**Summary**: Her name is Sakura Haruno. She is just like me, and you. She is fourteen years old. Sasuke Uchiha makes her scowl, and smile, and want to love. Her hair is pink; her eyes are green. But she is different, in a way, because she will be the next victim; the man's prey. He is watching her.

**Rating**: for now, T

**[Notes**: I am inspired by 'Lovely Bones' and 'The Missing Girl' to write a story about a girl, falling in 'like' and facing the challenges of being a teenager, and in her innocence becoming the victim of a predator. "The man" is the predator, and his part of the story is meant for the suspense. And 'he' is no one in particular, for now; he is symbolizing predators in the world. Also, the title is important to the plot, which you'll learn more about later.  Please review and tell me what you think about the idea.]

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto; we all wish we did.

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**[DAY 1]**

The man is always alone.

He is always on time.

He never bothers anyone.

This man is bored. He is bored and he is tired of his life, of getting the mail and wearing red ties with blue shirts, of feeding his cat and killing his goldfish and buying new ones.

It has been four years since they gave him his freedom.

He is a fine man; a "good" man, he thinks, and he smiles to himself as he looks at his new pet fish, Melvin, sitting on top of the mantle in a tiny bowl, a miniature world of treasure chests and castles at the bottom.

This man feels the ache in his chest, the Empty Place, the need.

But he is a nice man, a "good" man, and he will not hurt anybody. He feeds Melvin and watches the Late Show. He makes egg salad for lunch and eats left overs for dinner. He will avoid them -_ beautiful smiles and long legs and short skirts -_ for the moment.

**[DAY 2]**

When Sakura wakes up, she remembers the flowers.

In her dream, there are thousands of tiny flowers, rippling with the breeze. Poppies, dahlias, tiger lilies, roses. All of them bloom, and wilt under her finger tips. The smell of rotten apples is thick in the air, and the ground turns to slush and mud, a dirty embankment of stagnant water with dead sharks, around her waist.

But it's only a dream. She is awake now. Just a dream. So she closes her eyes, opens them again, once, twice – and she goes to wash the bad taste out of her mouth, to examine her pores.

Her name is Sakura Haruno. She is just like me, and you.

She is fourteen years old. Today she is starting ninth grade, in a new school.

Her hair is pink; her eyes are green.

But she is different, in a way, because she will the next girl, the next victim; his prey.

**[DAY 5]**

Hinata, who sits in the back row of her Math class, hardly speaks.

"She like, never talks. I forget what her voice sounds like," the girl in front of her explains.

Sakura can't say anything about Hinata, because she doesn't know her; but she can understand why Hinata is alone, and the sympathy is clear in her heart.

The girl has short hair cropped by her mother's scissors; she wears overalls and jumpers in denims and blues; her lips are chapped, her nails are chewed.

But it is her eyes. Hauntingly white – blank. The world goes past her in an instant, but everything is immersed in darkness. She is, quite simply, blind.

And there are some secrets that people shouldn't talk about, but want to so much that they are said anyway.

"And you know what, Sakura? That blind girl's little sister – she was a Winter Girl. Do you remember that? She was the second one they found out there, in that shack . . . ."

They remember the murders, the pictures of their faces, the bodies, found in the melting snow, three years ago. "The most violent murder committed in Konohagakure in years." Sakura can't remember the right one – the girl who looks liker her sister. Sakura was eleven back then.

So instead she imagines a kind child, with huge, seeing eyes and dark blue hair, running through a field turning to frost and ice, then sleeping inside a tree; her heart beats slowly and her hands are cool, but there is a flush on her cheeks and a flutter of her lashes, because she is still so alive.

The bell rings a few moments later; it's time for Hatake's Mathematics class (it is geometry and she hates it, they all hate it) to begin.

But Sakura knows that the little girl, 'the youngest victim at nine years old', is not resting peacefully in the woods; she has been cut up and lost to the world of living things. She is dead. _D-e-a-d, _the image of it, how she pictured it, coming back again.

Sakura swallows and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear; she can't watch Hinata feel the bumps beneath her fingers from across the room, dragging her hands across the paper in a secret language no one else knows.

Hatake-sensei pulls down the screen near the whiteboard and flips on the ancient projector. Sakura begins to take notes, and tries to ignore the whispers in her brain. She is starting to understand why it can be better never having to see at all.

**[DAY 11]**

The man is driving home from work one day and he sees her.

She is walking with two girls, a blond and a brunette.

Instantly he chooses which ones he likes and which he does not; they catch his interest, because they are in uniform; and he imagines them to be prim and polite young girls, girls who play the piano and wear high stockings and nightgowns to bed.

He does not favor the blond, because her pony tail is much too long – he has never liked girls with ratty hair. And even though her curves are evident beneath the plain white shirt, and her wrists are weighed down with beautiful jewelry, the man cannot like her.

The brunette has her hair in buns and chopsticks; she skips as she walks, her back pack flopping against her shoulders. The man does not like her, either, because she seems like an animal stuck under a fence, constantly moving and talking and fidgeting, annoying enough to slap.

No – the man is sure the one he likes is the girl with the crude pink hair, and the long creamy legs, the blue skirt rolled up to show a peek of her thigh. Too much leg, the man thinks, wishing he could chastise her for it. A girl's body should be kept secret.

Suddenly they turn right at the corner, on West Locust street; the man is almost at the main road, he realizes, and tears his gaze from the three young girls, laughing amongst themselves, unaware of the rest of the world.

**[DAY 33]**

It is in History class where Sakura is informed, though grudgingly so, by Ino that Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto are staring at her.

October's cool breeze sweeps through the open windows of the classroom; a few children gather at desks and talked about movies, television and music – but never books, they never talk about books, Sakura thinks – as they wait for Miss Yuhi to come in.

"They're staring at you." Sakura's purple pen stops scribbling small drawings of lucky nekos and stars in the corner of her science notebook.

"Who?"

"Oh, come on, Sakura! You've been at Konoha Prep for almost a month now and you don't know The Uchiha Sasuke? And Naruto, his friend?"

A blank look, and a stare. Ino rolls her eyes and says, "You know, the boy with the spiky hair and the blond guy, with the scars. Sasuke. And Naruto. They're _pre-tty_ popular."

The truth is that Sakura has been too busy with herself, she feels guilty. She has not called Ino to 'sleep-over' or go out to get ice cream at her favorite store near the mall; she has been trying to memorize her school schedule and studying to improve her geometry grade.

"Oh, yeah – I know who you mean. Should I look?" Sakura asks quietly as she tucks a lock of pink hair behind her ear, and chews on the pen cap.

Ino hesitates then whispers sharply, "Look, now." And Sakura does.

They are like day, with hot sun and bare feet in the summer time, and night, with a sharp cool breeze and a bright moon sky. She sees the Day shove the Night; she hears the word 'obnoxious' from across the classroom, and a few other curses from the blond, whose tanned skin contrasts the pale complexion of 'The Uchiha Sasuke'.

She can't tear her eyes away from them. They're mesmerizing. Like . . . . "They aren't even real . . . ." Sakura thinks aloud.

**[DAY 39]**

Once again the man follows them; this is like a routine, and he is no longer as bored as he used to be.

Today the brunette is missing and he is secretly glad; he keeps his eyes on the road, but wants to watch them. The pinkette and the blond are running this time, ice cream cones in their hands, screaming and giggling with laughter.

When the man sees the pink haired girl lick her cone, he has chills and he must look away. He steps on the gas pedal and goes a bit faster; there is no one behind him, because he takes the longest route home from work.

Soon he passes them. The man breathes deeply and goes home, but does not feel like eating the leftover ambrosia from the night before; he frowns at Melvin as he swims frantically about his bowl.

The man is . . . mad. No, he is annoyed. Annoyed at the two girls for crossing his path and leaving him with ice cream all over their lips. It is indecent of them; it is not right. He shudders and turns on his TV, the sounds of generic laughter calming his racing heart.

**[END OF PART 1]**

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	2. Chapter 2

**"Winter Girls"**

**a SasuSaku story by Rot-chan**

**Rating**: for now, T

**[Notes**: OK - why did I choose Winter Girls for the title, and what do they have to do with the story? I guess I wanted the quiet town to have a scandal, to make everyone realize that pretending things are all right doesn't make them go away, and that evil lurks even in a protected place like AU-Konoha. It is also a good B-plot for later chapters, for Sakura and Hinata's friendship.

Please review and let me know how you liked 1 and 2, and if I should continue. They are very appreciated, because I'm stressing over exams.:(]

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Naruto :((

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**[DAY 57]**

School on Monday is normal until the fire.

Sakura is in History class; the clock goes agonizingly slow, and it is only eleven in the morning. While everyone takes notes on the French and Indian war, Sakura is distracted by Sasuke.

Until she met him, she has never felt her stomach turn at the sight of one person; before him, boys seemed loud and overbearing, and hardly "cute" or "attractive" - they were just people, of a different gender, who she had to see every day.

But Sasuke is high cheeks bones and smooth skin; an aristocratic nose and endless eyes; intelligence and calm. He is sitting just across the room, writing things down with a black pen, glaring at Naruto when the other boy whispers to copy something down from him; he is graceful, and calm, and he is staring at her.

Oh, God, Sakura thinks, trying not to flush at being caught, hiding in the curtain of her salmon pink hair and pretending to look busy. Ino gives her an odd look on her right; Sakura ignores her, cursing her mother for making her eat something as foul as oatmeal because now her stomach is churning and she forgot to do her hair and she hasn't even written the date down -

-_BRRRRRRIIINNNNGGG_! A bell sounds; a few girls shriek; Sakura jumps.

It is a fire drill, Miss Yuhi says, but her expression contradicts her statement.

When the first few run out from the stairwell leading to the basement, tears on the cheeks, faces ashes, Sakura knows it is not routine. The halls are suddenly filled with murmuring, loud voices, directions from where to exit the building. Someone has a megaphone.

The basement is quickly becoming an inferno, the flames already lapping up the West walls; "someone call 911!"; no, this is not a drill.

A teacher is filing students out of the basement, and soon everyone is running, scrambling and shoving out the front doors, the back entrances, the emergency exits near the strikes Sakura as almost funny, seeing people shoving past one another to find their own safety, when the flames are underground.

In an instant, Sakura's class is no where; she is too mesmerized by a two women, one she has seen as a student-teacher, carrying Hinata Hyuga up the stairs.

"Move along!" Someone says, and she looks behind her - it is her math teacher. So Sakura must go, but she can't tear her eyes away from Hinata, in the hold of two women, desperate, helpless; she looks over her shoulder as she goes, led by Hatake'sensei's guiding hand, as Hinata is reaching out, hands blindly waving through the air, wet on her cheeks.

It strikes her that maybe Hinata didn't want to get out. Frowning, Sakura pushes the thought from her mind. It's frightening.

**[DAY 66]**

Seven days later, the counselors at school are always offering to "help" the people who were in the basement. It's almost funny how some kids go to get out of class, kids who do not understand how quickly anyone can lose their life; others, truly shaken from the experience, can't stop talking about it; of course, they are mostly girls. But at least Hinata is not among them, Sakura thinks, because she is always, _always_ in class.

Sakura is shaken from her thoughts when Miss Yuhi says, "Uchiha, Haruno." What?

Hearing their names together gives her a strange feeling in her chest, since she had obviously missed something important. Sakura curses herself for not paying more attention; but the "incident" last week makes it difficult to pay attention, what with it constantly on the announcements and being whispered about between teachers behind students' backs.

"And, let's see . . . Uzumaki, Yamanaka. Ok everyone, let's get started. Get with your partners, please!" Miss Yuhi says.

"Oh, perfect. I have to be with Naruto! I don't even like, _like_ him. And you get to be with Sa-su-ke," Ino says.

Sakura feels her heart in her throat. "Have fun, Sakura," Ino smiles, and the pink haired girl is sure she can detect the hint of malice in the blonde's tone.

"Haruno Sakura. I can't miss your hair." It's Sasuke, walking calmly over to the desk beside her and sitting down. Nice to be partners with you too, Sakura thinks, trying not to blush. She scowls as her ears turn pink. In truth, Sakura is frustrated. Frustrated at how she can be so easily flustered from being next to this person.

There's nothing that great about him, Sakura muses as she takes their worksheets from Miss Yuhi – the title reads, "FRENCH & INDIAN WAR: CAUSE AND EFFECT". There is nothing that amazing about Uchiha Sasuke; he isn't a movie star, and he isn't her 'boyfriend'; he's handsome, but he's not that handsome, not enough to make her write his name in hearts in her notebook.

"Here. I'll move my desk across from yours, so we can communicate better," Sasuke says; Sakura realizes that he is the kind of person who can only say something as adult as 'communicate better', and it almost sounds weird coming from a boy, because are boys supposed to say stupid things about sports and girls and -

- Sasuke is sitting across from her and - _oh_. Sakura is so wrong, because everything she has been trying to convince herself about Sasuke can't be true.

Because Sakura can't tear her gaze away from his eyes; sterling grey, but transparent like sea glass. Because Sasuke's eyes are beautiful; he is beautiful and flawless, and the kind of person who generally makes you feel worse about who you are just by being with him. This unnerves her.

"Yeah. That helps," Sakura manages, but she scowls to herself, feeling stupid for no reason in particular. It's dangerous that she's talking without thinking about it first. It might be easier just not to talk, Sakura considers for a moment. But they are partners, and this is a graded assignment, so can she really remain silent?

No, Sakura thinks, and reads the first question aloud. "When did the French and Indian War begin?" There is silence between them, and Sasuke scribbles something down; he is quiet. Sakura has the urge to chew on her pen.

"Do you need me to . . . ? Say the answer, I mean. We're partners." Sakura says, and instantly regrets saying anything, because Sasuke raises his head to look at her, his gaze questioning.

"Do you really need a partner, Sakura? I don't think so." In a sense, Sasuke is right. She knows he is right. And Sakura is sure Sasuke doesn't need a partner either.

"All right. If you say so," Sakura sighs and writes down her answer slowly, in neat print.

It takes her a moment to realize that Sasuke is already on question three, and she needs to catch up. Across the room, Ino is glaring but smiling at Uzumaki Naruto, who is leaning over his desk obviously to copy off of the girl's answers.

Something compels Sakura to say softly, "It's strange how you two are friends."

Sasuke stops writing and says, "What?"

"Oh. I just said . . . it's strange. How you and Naruto are friends. I didn't think that you could put up with him," Sakura chooses her words carefully, watching amusement flicker in his eyes.

"We've known each other since grade school. He's followed me throughout the years. He gets attached," Sasuke explains, and Sakura feels herself grin, because she can picture how Naruto must harass Sasuke endlessly as he seems to do in class, when they are alone together. It's so 'odd couple' that it makes her laugh a little.

Not looking up, Sasuke says with a smirk clearly evident in his voice, "I like your frown better, Sakura."

Sakura stares at him and tugs on her earlobe, a nervous habit she has had since sixth grade. "Do you hate laughter that much?" she asks, curious. The worksheet is forgotten.

Sasuke looks thoughtful for a moment before he replies, "Girls are always so happy. They're _too_ happy. Or weepy. One or the other. I never see women frown with such intensity."

Is this a good thing or is this a horrible thing? Sakura can't quite decide, though she is sure it leans a bit towards 'horrible thing'. But maybe she is wrong, because Sasuke is smirking and staring again, and Sakura looks down when she realizes that unconsciously that while deep in thought, she has frowned again. She has always been cynical, but it hasn't bothered her until now.

At the end of the class, Sakura hurries to finish the last questions. Sasuke is a distraction, but a nice one. Before she can go, he says, "Sit at my table tomorrow. Don't bring anyone."

Sakura can barely compute this _– cafeteria, table, tomorrow, sit with him –_ the words are strewn in her head, but she feel herself nod, her face blank.

"Why? You . . . we barely know each other," Sakura says, and she can feel her heartbeat in her throat again.

"I don't think I _need_ a reason. If you really want one, though - you're just . . . people say things about you, but you never seem like you care. You're not bothered by it. It's odd."

She wants to say something to spite him, to hurt his feelings; but Sakura knows that such a thing is never possible. And his voice is light, and cool. She wants to hear him talk this way again, only to her. She smiles when he looks away, and feels giddy, and childish. The bell rings to end class as quickly as it had begun.

**[DAY 75]**

The man is nervous, terribly nervous. He sees an article in the local paper, and when he reads it – FIRE AT KONOHAGAKURE PREP SCHOOL - he can no longer eat the sandwich on his plate, the Pepsi forgotten.

The girls do not take Locust street to the main road for many days (but he doesn't know that they are taking the bus home instead, or getting picked up by their mothers, because of bad weather). He doesn't see them. He continues to worry.

Because this – doing this, watching them, being the nice man and saying hello and good afternoon in his own way – greeting the girls, the pink haired girl, it has become his routine. It is November, and the leaves have fallen to the ground, but this is the first time he has noticed. Nothing else truly matters; he sits and has three meals, the leftovers, feeds his fish most of the time, and tapes Myth Busters on his VCR. But the girls, really, the girl – make his life.

Then he sees the girl again. And he is so glad, he almost brakes his car.

But she is not alone. Her pink hair is tucked behind her ears, unlike how she usually wears it; her skirt is rolled a bit higher, but it is not this that makes the man's heart thump and his brows knit as he grits his teeth.

She is standing on the corner and he is slowly passing them by, going just a few miles below the speed limit of 20. He clenches the steering wheel; his knuckles turn white beneath his grip, and he wants to scream.

No, she is not with the fidgeting brunette or the unruly blond; she is with a boy, with ugly, strange black hair and the same uniform, an untucked white oxford shirt and navy pants, a tie hanging loosely around his neck, books under his arm, his body turned towards her's -

- No, it is infuritating him, and he cannot think about it any longer. So the man pretends he has seen nothing and goes home.

When he is inside, the man takes out the special book under his bed, with **her** old picture in it – the beautiful red haired girl with reading glasses, who took away his freedom. Her school picture smiles back at him, without glasses, freckles across her nose; there is an article about her winning the field hockey regional championship.

Then, he sees another piece of paper he clipped and stuck inside.

_"Five girls, the youngest victim at just nine years old, were all found outside of the town of Konoha, brutally murdered and dismembered. Evidence shows that the victims have been dead for over twenty-one days. A local member of the community, whose name will remain anonymous, was hunting when he came across the abandoned shack, later confirmed to be the scene of these grisly murders . . . .-_

The man sees the red haired girl's face among the others, their pictures beside the print, and he is secretly happy all over again. What luck, what _chance_, for her to end up rotting away! He almost wishes he could have done it himself - but no, he wanted to be a nice man, a good man again, so he never did.

He does not like the red hair, and instead imagines pink. It makes him smile. He goes and sits in the bathtub for a long hour, imagining her pink hair, soft between his fingers.

**[END OF PART 2]**

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